Family Ties
by Lealah Lupin III
Summary: An old man visits Lupin and Lealah in their French safe house. Who is he, and what does he have to do with a drunk, the wife of a detective, and our two intrepid thieves? Crossover. R&R!
1. Part 1

Family Ties

A/N: The disclaimer and further authors note will be recorded at the end of the story, as they will both spoil the story. I have written the translation of the 1337 for those who can't read it. This form of 1337 is my own creation and is probably completely wrong, if there is any actual 1337 alphabet or typed grammar.

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"R j00 5Ur3 7H!5 !s 1!6!7?" (Are you sure this is legitimate?) I asked my online contact suspiciously in l337. If this were true, it could change everything I knew about my family.

"cH4. d0n7 45K wH3r3 j0 f0uNd !7 7H0." (Yeah. Don't ask where I found it, though.) He replied dubiously.

"!f !7 !5/7 j0 w!11 pwn j00." (If it isn't, I will destroy you.)

"r1x!7 !5. -4v3 fu/." (Relax, it is. Have fun.)

"7hX," (Thanks.) I said just before signing off. I held in my possession a very, very old photograph taken of a family. The woman in the picture, however, interested me greatly, as did the children circling her feet and the man beside her. Looking more closely at the photograph, I gasped and my eyes widened. My, my, my, this was _quite_ interesting. I put on my favorite playlist on my iPod program and began to research my new quarry.

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After three days, I had most of the answers I needed. I probably would never have all of them, and that was fine with me, because I had answers to the big ones. Now all I had to do was present them to my brother. Ooh. Dinner first. I couldn't remember the last time that I had eaten.

I stumbled into the kitchen and found, not surprisingly, everyone gathered around the table for dinner. They knew better than to disturb me on one of my research binges, so luckily I hadn't been bothered over the past 3 days.

"Look who finally crawled out of her room," Jigen said, eyebrow raised. "What have you been looking up for three days straight?"

"Please tell me it has something to do with the next heist," Lupin begged. I shook my head.

"Nope. It's even more important." I jerked a piece of pizza from the fridge and began to eat it. "Are any of you familiar with any of the Sherlock Holmes literature?"

"That can't be more important than our next heist!" Lupin wailed in protested.

"No," Goemon retorted curtly.

"Some, when I was younger," said Jigen.

"Not a whole lot…" Arsène sighed. I rolled my eyes.

"How could I get involved with men so clueless to good literature? Anyway, Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective of all times. Cold, detached, analytical. Only had one friend, one man he could trust absolutely, which is, of course, Dr. Watson. He had an addiction to at least two, maybe 3 drugs, but his cocaine addiction was the most pressing, and above all he did not, under any circumstances, trust women. He found that where women were, trouble lies." Jigen snorted.

"Sounds like my kinda guy," he muttered.

"Ah, wait just a minute," I said to him, sliding the photograph onto the table. Arsène took a cursory glance at it.

"Ok, Holmes and some woman and some kids. Couldn't they be the Baker Street Irregulars?" he asked.

"I thought you said you hadn't read a lot of Holmes literature," I shot back. "Look closer at the woman." He glanced over at the photo again, then it caught his attention and his eyes went wide. Instantly, his face was inches from it.

"My God! She looks just like an older version of you!" I nodded.

"Anyone who knows anything about Sherlock Holmes knows that he was presumed dead for three years, supposedly killed by a Professor Moriarty. All of that is complete crap, made up to spare a good man's reputation. In reality, he went to Vienna."

"What's in Vienna?" Goemon asked.

"A Jewish physician, shunned from medicine for his outrageous claims, by the name of Sigmund Freud. Watson believed that Freud's hypno-therapy could break Holmes of his addiction. They even made a really terrible movie out of it that portrayed Holmes as a weak hearted fool, slave to the drug and his own memories and left out vital facts and key people. It's also the reason I don't trust the Oscars; it was nominated for two. I'm surprised Sherlock Holmes the Third didn't sue. Anyway, long story short Mycroft, his brother, and Watson end up tricking him to going to Vienna. He accepts help from Freud, and Freud hypnotizes him to suppress his cravings for cocaine."

"Wait a minute," Jigen interrupted. "Where does Moriarty come in? And what about the woman in the photograph?"

"Be patient, I'm getting to her. And Moriarty was completely fictional." I told them.

"What!" Arsène and Jigen yelped in unison. Goemon blinked in underplayed confusion.

"Professor Moriarty was never a real man; merely an excuse Holmes gave Watson to explain his absence for the next three years. Remember, unless I'm mistaken, Moriarty only showed up in two stories, the one where Holmes died and the one where he comes back.

"Back to my story. Even with Freud's hypno-therapy, withdrawal is never a pleasant experience. Cocaine withdrawal is especially dangerous, too. Freud and Watson both cared for him during his hallucinations, but there was another." I pointed to the woman in the picture.

"Tired of her brother's life of crime, Lealah Lupin the First faked her own death and fled to Vienna, where she was taken as an apprentice to Freud. This was unheard of at the time, you have to understand, and only added to the medical community's dislike of him. Anyway, she cared for him for the most part, unless his hallucinations made him dangerous, and through it all, they caused him to believe that she was an angel."

"Heh. That's _one_ way to hook a man," Jigen scoffed.

"Yes. Well, when he finally snapped out of it, he found her to be the most improper, impetuous, impudent woman he'd ever met. She spoke on the level of men and, god forbid, wore pants on occasion. She was also very knowledgeable. Of course, she intrigued him. They would argue with each other constantly, and it amazed him that she would never take offence to his less-than-kind comments."

"She found him to be rude, abrasive, clinically insane and an absolute ball to talk with. She loved to get him mad about something and watch him get flustered. She also worried over him; I guess because neither of them could forget how Lealah cared for him. Aside from their arguments, he wasn't reverting back to himself. He was left empty and almost broken, wasn't eating, and generally lived off in a world in his own mind. After a few days, one of Freud's other patients was abducted." I pause to take a breath. Jigen and Arsène were practically on the edges of their seats, and Goemon was listening with intense interest. I smiled.

"Oh, are you interested, big brother?"

"Of course! I just learned that I was duped by my aunt and my grandfather's greatest rival!

"Why did she fake her own death?" Goemon asked.

"She probably didn't want gramps to go looking for her. If she was sick of a life of crime, she probably didn't want to go back. Other than that, I don't really know. Back to the story."

"When Freud's patient was abducted, Holmes didn't want to take the case at first. He thought that since they were both Freud's patients, it would be a conflict of interest. Freud managed to pique his interest, though, by asking him how he would go about it if it were his case. Through a long series of events that would make this story lots longer, he was inadvertently mixed up in it and decided that it would be best if he went through with solving the case instead of leaving it to be muddled by others. When they got ready to go, however, Lealah surprised them all by insisting that she go along with them. Of course, Holmes wouldn't allow it. He told her she would only be in the way, and the people they would be meeting would never allow a _woman_ to come with them. Successfully disguising herself as a man (Remember, she had lived with Lupin the First for two decades) impressed him deeply, but he still absolutely refused to accept her company. I'd give my entire anime and video game collection _and_ all of my computer gear to know how she finally got him, but that fact has been lost to time. The point is, he finally caved in." Lupin's eyes grew wide. Her anime collection on its own was quite impressive with over a thousand items, not to mention the numerous more games for all of her video gaming systems.

"Again, I'm skipping most of the actual case. It's very, _very _interesting, but it has nothing to do with Lealah. It ended up with Holmes fencing with the abducted woman's suitor. The other man got the upper hand, however, and injured Holmes' arm. Of course, he couldn't continue fencing with a busted arm, so it looked like the end for him. Lealah, however, retrieved the gun he had dropped and came to his defense. Watson had been indisposed at the moment, the suitor had knocked him out, and Dr. Freud had his own problems to deal with, namely the suitors associates. After a scuffle, the suitor was able to get the gun away from Lealah and hold her as a hostage against Holmes. Frightened for her safety, he threw down the fencing sword and demanded that the suitor take him instead. Unfortunately, he saw that he had found Holmes' weakness. He laughed in his face and refused to let Lealah go. He told the detective to back up and call Dr. Freud off of his associates, who was doing a good job holding them at bay with a shotgun." I paused again as my stomach rumbled.

"Well!" Arsène asked.

"I need to eat some more before I continue. How about a quick break for questions?" Everybody groaned.

"Here's one: what happened next?" Jigen retorted. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, do you want my blood sugar to get low? You'd have to get me to a hospital _while_ I was seizing, and it wouldn't be wonderful for keeping a low profile, either." I love making them suffer.

"Fine, hurry up," he grumped. I got two more pieces of pizza and settled back down.

"Ok, Freud with a shotgun. So, he put it down, and the suitor laughed in both of there faces and began to carry Lealah off. I'm guessing Holmes saw red, 'cause he got the gun Freud had dropped and shot the guy. In the leg, mind you, but still. That's pretty severe. Anyway, after he shot him, she managed to brake away, and in a fit of rage, the guy lunged at Holmes and Holmes was forced to kill him."

"Wow…I never thought he killed…" Arsène told me.

"Self-defense and defense of others doesn't count. What else was he supposed to do?"

"Me or you would have been able to just…incapacitate him," Jigen voiced.

"Holmes was a master and sword fighting, not marksmanship. Anyway, if some guy was goin' for one of us to kill, don't you think you would have done more that just 'incapacitate' him?"

"…Yeah, alright…" he allowed.

"Well, Watson finally woke up, but Holmes ran to Lealah first. Finding each other unharmed (well, except Holmes' arm) they all headed back to Dr. Freud's house. A few days later, Dr. Watson left for London alone. Holmes told him that he had found something more "pressing" than his practice in London, but assured him that it was only a short hiatus to aid in his recovery. When Watson asked what to do about their readers, Holmes replied, 'Tell them I was killed! They will never believe you anyway!' And they didn't. The only other time Watson saw him in the 3 years he was presumed dead was to be best man at his wedding to Lealah Lupin. And, that's what happened. Our uncle was the most famous detective of all time, and we never even knew about it." A sip of coke (no pun intended) topped it all off.

"Then, why did no one know of her? If he were married, people would have it would have been news," Goemon asked.

"Think about it," Arsène said. "Holmes was hated by criminals the world over. If anyone had known that he was married, they would have tried to come after her to get to him. Same with the kids."

"Exactly. Lealah and their children stayed in Bath, hidden from his readers and potential killers until Holmes retired and his son took over. And _his_ son is Sherlock Holmes the 3rd, who you made an utter fool of in the little blimp incident," I concluded, leaning back.

"How did you find all this out?" Jigen asked.

"You know, Watson had a wife too. His family was entrusted with the secret of his friend's marriage. Once I told them my name and the existence of the photograph, the thought I deserved to hear the truth about my great-aunt."

"Wow. That's…interesting…" Arsène said.

"What?"

"You honestly didn't do _any_ research on the heist?"

"Our family's more important than some diamond!"

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.

"I thought it was interesting, Lealah. Heh, you're both smart enough to be related to the smartest man ever. Well, Lealah is, at least," Jigen told us, grinning.

"Hey!" Arsène exclaimed. I shook my head, grinning too. Nothing could really rock any of them. Just another day in the life of the Lupin household. And yet, that day, something changed inside of me. There is no family curse. I would live. That, and I was related to a man I had deeply admired since I was 7 years old and my foster father told me that _The Great Mouse Detective_ Disney movie was based off of a real man. I had that connection. And nothing, could take that impression away from me. And nothing has since.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Lupin the 3rd or Sherlock Holmes.

A/N: When Lealah said they made a movie out of it, it was true. A week ago I watched a truly terrible movie about my favorite crime fighter called _The Seven-Per-Cent_ _Solution, _based on a book written by a man who was not Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. God, was it bad, but it got me thinking, and I decided to make something good come out of it with this fic. In the movie, Sherlock Holmes is delusional from his addiction, and mistakenly thinks Moriarty is "The Napoleon of Crime". Moriarty was also his math tutor, apparently. There are some elements of the story I haven't spoiled in the fanfic and incase anyone does want to read the book or see the movie, I won't. This include the real kicker in the movie which I thought to be shallow and transparent and I figured it out twenty minutes in. BTW, whoever decide to cast Robert Duvall as Watson should be shot. Anyway, there it is. R&R as always, and I hope you liked it! Lealah out!


	2. Part 2

Family Ties Part 2

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, it was only supposed to be a oneshot, but my mind just won't stop. Again, disclaimer and further author note will be at the end of the story so I don't spoil it. No l337 this time either, especially as I've been informed that I got it terribly wrong in the first part. Oh well. R&R! French translations at the bottom. I never took French, so don't kill me if I didn't get the phrases exactly right. I was using an online phrase translator.

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A few weeks after my underplayed discovery (I'm still mad at Arsène for that), my brother and I were the only two at our French hideout. Goemon had gone to Japan for his annual Shinto accessorial prayer thingy and he would kill me for calling it that. I never really knew much about his religion, being Christian, and how in the world you could worship someone who had been dead for so long whom you knew next to nothing about. Yes, I see the irony. Shut up.

Anyway, Goemon was in Japan and Jigen had gone to a pool tournament in St. Louis. I wanted to go with him, seeing as I was pretty good at pool too, but I am underage, apparently. I hate being a minor, especially living with those three. I can never get into any of the gambling houses or bars they go to. Fujiko was in Barcelona because she knew it was the one place Jigen refused to go. He had gotten a little too mad at her last scheme, and…well, let's just say that it was smart of her to get out and give him a little time to cool off. Part of the reason he went to the tournament was because he also needed to get away from Arsène because he was so mad. I saw _Robin Hood: Men in Tights _the other day and told Jigen and Goemon that we needed to get Arsène a chastity belt. They laughed so hard that they were rolling on the floor, but Arsène was less than amused.

In any case, this left the two of us alone together. We had a pretty good time together. He and I rented a lot of movies, which is something we can't really do often because none of the others speak French. He and I also went shopping, and I got this gorgeous new dress…heh, you aren't going to be interested about that though. We played video games too, which he's actually pretty good at. He beat me a fair few times, surprisingly. That day, though, he kept to himself. I think he was researching a new heist or something, because I didn't see him all day.

I was drawing at the kitchen table when it happened. I like to draw, you know, and I'm not half bad at it. I'm not wonderful, but I'm not horrible either. This particular picture was a family portrait: Sherlock Holmes, my great Aunt, my brother and myself. I'll always wonder what it would be like to meet him… I'm getting off track though. The doorbell rang. I would have been worried, but I had ordered a pizza. I jumped up and practically ran to the door to get it. I was really hungry. When I opened it, however, I was surprised.

The man who stood before me was very, very elderly, but he stood quite straight and held his head high, and there was an air of royalty about him, which was a feat in itself, considering he was holding my pizza. He had very short, white hair with sideburns. Glasses rested on his nose and created windows to his deep, chestnut brown eyes, which shone with intelligence. His narrow face was reminiscent of someone who had once been very handsome, and his clothes reflected wealth. The suit was definitely Armani, with a silk tie and a black opera cloak was thrown over his shoulders. He also had a silver capped cane, which he didn't lean on. The head of the cane was shaped like a wolf. I was on guard immediately. This was not a man to trifle with.

"Aren't you a little old to be a delivery boy?" I asked, belatedly realizing that I had said it in English. Don't get me wrong, I'm quite fluent in French, but English had always come easier because I had been raised in America. He spoke even before I could correct myself.

"Quite," he said in a confidant, heavy French accent. Even thought his accent was heavy, he was very articulate and I had no trouble with his English. "I am here to see Arsène Lupin the Third."

"May I ask who would like to see him?" I asked politely.

"A friend, I assure you," he responded, smiling warmly. I narrowed my eyes. I didn't let his friendly demeanor hide his obvious power.

"Forgive me, sir, but how am I to know you are who you say you are?" I didn't want to offend him. Not yet. Not until I knew more about him. He smiled and laughed.

"You are smart to be so cautious of me, my dear. Are you his daughter?" I glared at him, trying to see whether or not I could trust him.

"Sister," I said, deciding I could trust him with that information. His eyes showed surprise and in took a breath sharply.

"You are so young…Please, fetch your brother. It is imperative that I speak with him." Yes, it was high time to get Arsène, I decided. I knew that if this man did mean us harm, there was no way I could take him alone.

"Please, sir, come in and I will get him. May I take your cloak?" He handed it to me with a warm smile. I hung it on the coat rack. "Would you like a drink?" I offered, trying to be as polite as I could.

"_Non, merci,"_ he told me. So I ran to get my brother.

"Arsene?" I called, knocking on his door. "There's a man out here asking for you."

"What does he look like?" he asked.

"Old. Brown eyes. Cloak and cane. He kinda looks like he crawled out of _Le Fantôm de l'Opéra._" I used French to distinguish the book from the play and movies, since it was originally written in French. A pause on his side of the door.

"I'll be out in a minute!" he called excitedly. "Did you make him comfortable?"

"Sort of…"

"Go! Ask him if he needs anything, do you think we're savages!" I rolled my eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you're the only one who could be considered a…"

"GO!" So I went. I found him at the kitchen table pouring over my drawings.

"Oh! Sir, please…"

"_Mon cher!_" he exclaimed. "These are quite good! Did you draw these?"

"Yes, sir."

"_Oui,_ this one looks like you, your brother and…" He stopped as his eyes passed over my Aunt and a great sadness overtook his features. "She looks like someone I knew long ago," he said quietly.

"Uh…" I said lamely. I still didn't know what to make of him. Obviously he wasn't a threat; Arsène seemed…_giddy _when I described him. _Wait a minute,_ I thought. _Could this be…?_

"Ah, but who is this man?" he asked me. "He looks quite familiar…"

"Sherlock Holmes," I said offhandedly. "Sir, you couldn't be my…"

"Gramps!" Arsène cried. My eyes shot open wide.

"Arsène! Oh, I have missed you, _mon petit loup1_" Arsène Lupin the First cried to his grandson. They hugged each other. It surprised me how spry my grandfather was; he had to be close to 90! After they had let go, he turned to me.

"What is your name, _mon cher?_"

"Lealah, sir," I responded nervously. He laughed.

"_Si vous plait,_ call me Père. I see my son kept with tradition," he said, his smile fading a bit.

"Yes sir, he did," I said. I had never met his son, my father.

"What are you doing here, Gramps? I thought you'd be in a retirement home or something," Arsène asked him. My mouth dropped open a bit. Well, that was certainly…rude.

"_Mon petit loup, _how you insult me!" Père exclaimed, clutching his heart. "I shall never succumb to the horrors of age and be forced into one of those dreadful places, and you'll do well to remember that. I didn't know that you had a sister. Can you speak French, _mon cher?"_

_"Oui. Coulante,_" I said.

"_Exquis._ How many other languages?"

"_Trois_. English, _Nihongo, et Español," _I responded, each in their respective languages. Well, _trios_ is _3_ and _et_ is _and_ in French, since I had been speaking French to him.

"_Exquis._ You must learn Italian next, _mon cher. _It is quite the beautiful language." I grinned and nodded. I had been thinking the same thing. "How have you hid her so well, _mon petit loup?"_ I learned that Père rarely referred to Arsène by his first name, since they both had the same one.

"You know that my mother died, Gramps?" He nodded gravely. "I was young. I tried to take care of her, but I couldn't. I left her in America so she could be raised well, and she found me."

"You abandoned her in America!" Père yelled. "Why did you not find me! I raised you, I could have done the same with her!"

"To keep her from Dad," Arsène said quietly. Père froze, then sighed and eased slightly.

"_Ce qui est fait est fait. _Are you a thief, _mon cher?" _I found it odd that his anger seemed to evaporate when he had been so mad. And how quickly he had changed the subject. There was something not right about my father.

"Yes, sir. Arsène and his partners taught me," I told him.

"What are their names?"

"Daisuke Jigen and Goemon Ishikawa. They're both my friends too," I said.

"Ah. That Jigen…were you not friends with him when you were a teenager, _mon petit loup?"_ he asked Arsène.

"Yeah. He's the one that looks like a Blues Brother, remember?" I giggled. He really did. Père chuckled too.

"_Oui. _He is quite loyal, if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, that's Jigen alright," Lupin said with a chuckle.

"And that young woman…Fujiko, I believe her name was?"

"She's still around," I said in a flat voice. Père raised an eyebrow at me.

"You do not approve?" My lip curled.

"She's as traitorous as Jigen is loyal. In fact, she's in Barcelona trying to escape Jigen because of her last little…betrayal," I said. I was surprised when he smiled.

"Ah, _mon petit loup est dans l'amour._ _Mon cher,_ one day you will learn of love. And you, don't let her 'get your goat' too often."

"I won't, Gramps. Don't worry."

"He does. It gets very redundant," I said. Père laughed.

"Your grandmother was less than cooperative with my line of work. Many days she would be a thorn in my side. Trust me, you will understand when you fall in love with a man," he told me, patting my back. "Love is crazy in many ways." I thought of my one-sided infatuation of Jigen and understood.

"_Fou comme toi et fou comme moi,"_ I muttered. He smiled.

"Well said. I believe, however, that you were not the first to say it?" Arsène stood behind him smiling. I shook my head. "I like that song as well. So sad. So beautiful." I grinned too. There was another knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" I said happily. I was glad to meet Père. When I opened the door, there stood another man. His black hair was graying, and he wore a ragged graying beard. His eyes were deep chestnut brown as well, but they were narrowed into harsh slits. He was somewhat bigger than my brother and Père, and he was rougher too. He wore a rumpled suit with the dark tie loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His slacks were also rumpled and he walked stiffly. He didn't hold his head high or walk straight. His posture was an arrogant slouch. In contrast to Père, he bore an air of cruelty and crime. There was no royalty or aristocracy about him. This man frightened me. As Père had given off an air that he was not to be trifled with, so did this man, but for completely different reasons. His aura was mean, horrible, and above all, cruel.

"Out of my way, brat," he growled in the rasp of a long time chain smoker and drinker. He moved to shove me aside.

"Arsène! Père!" I yelled, reaching for my gun. He grabbed my wrist before I could reach around and a terrible grin appeared on his face.

"Let her go!" I heard Arsène yell. He and Père had come running and they stood there glowering at the man.

"Well, well," the man said, sneering as he let me go. "Isn't this a nice little reunion?" I backed away and Arsène shoved me behind him.

"Why are you here?" Père demanded.

"I came by to see my son. That isn't a crime, is it?" My eyes widened in shock. This man, this cruel man was my father. "And who is this little brat? Your daughter, no doubt. She looks just like you, my dear son. Obviously a mutt." That struck up my defiant side.

"No. _Yours,_" I said. His eyes widened slightly. He smirked terribly.

"Come to think of it, you do look like your mother. You're little Lealah then. I am Arsène Lupin the Second; your father." He held out his hand for me to shake. I knew he expected me to be too scared to take it, but I reached out and shook it defiantly. He laughed. "I see you have more of a spine than my failure son."

"He is not the failure, Boy," Père snapped. "He does not kill rampantly or rape women. Why did you come here really?" He smirked.

"This is where I live, Father," he said with mock respect.

"We've been here for weeks!" I said. "Where have you been?"

"Prison," Arsène spat. "You can find a new place to sleep it off. This is a Lupin safe house." He glared at Arsène, but then his eyes flitted back to Père. He didn't want to start something where it would be three against one. Well, two against one he thought, but if he thinks I won't protect myself, he's dead wrong.

"Fine," he said nonchalantly. "Goodbye, Father," he sneered, bowing mockingly. "I'll see you, the little failure and the family curse fodder later."

"There is no family curse," I said angrily. He smirked.

"Is that what my mistake of a son has been telling you?"

"No," I said, defiant contempt dripping from my voice. "The first Lealah Lupin never died. She faked her death and moved to Vienna and became an assistant to Sigmund Freud."

"Truly?" Père asked, hope filling his heavy accent. I nodded.

"Did the research myself." My father rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Nasty little liar. Good riddance to all of you." With that he was gone. We all went back into the sitting room.

"Is what you say true?" I smiled at him, trying to forget my meeting with my father and nodded.

"In Vienna she met someone and moved to Bath and had children. She died a little before I was born."

"Where did you learn of this?" Père asked me.

"A contact sent me a photograph and I recognized her husband." Arsène snorted, trying to hold in laughter.

"Who? Who did _ma chère soeur _marry?" Arsène couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Holmes! Sherlock Holmes!" he cried gleefully before breaking down into a fit of laughter. Père was shocked.

"The English detective?" Then he relaxed and laughed. "If anyone were good enough for her, it would be he. We could have been friends easily had our professions not conflicted." A grin broke out on my face.

"Really?"

"_Oui._ You must tell me all about it next time I visit."

"Aw, Gramps, you're leaving?"

"Why, Père? You could stay here a few days!"

"_Non, non,_ I must go. I have a friend to visit in Paris. Come, _mon cher,"_ he said, holding his arms open. I hugged him.

"It was an honor to meet you," I said, still hugging him.

"The honor and the pleasure was mine. Do not let anything my son said to you disturb you. You are more your mother's daughter and your brother's sister than you are his child. And I am sorry you had to meet him. You will do well in life, Lealah. I am sure of it." That filled my heart with pride, as corny as it sounds. He let go and faced Arsène. "Remember, _mon petit loup,_ gentleman before thief," he said, hugging my brother.

"Always, Grand-Père," he said. Père let go and buckled his cloak.

"Farewell, my grandchildren!" With that he was gone.

"Pretty cool, huh, Lea?" Arsène asked, nudging me.

"Very cool," I agreed. I couldn't believe I had just met the greatest thief the world has ever known. Arsène never told me about my grandfather, and it was only after I had met him that I read some of Maurice LeBlanc's books, but after that first meeting I came to admire my grandfather very much. We never talked about that meeting with my father either. I will never understand how such a kind man could spawn a child such as my father. It was unnatural. Goemon told me later that some people were just evil. I suppose that was my father. It unnerved me, but I don't think about it all that much. I can't control who he is, only who I am, and I have vowed never to become the embittered, cruel person he is. I try to be more like my grandfather.

"Hey, where is that picture of our great Aunt? I never got a good look at it," Arsène asked.

"Oh…I don't know. I lost it a little while ago."

"You idiot!" That was a lie. Just before Père left, I slipped it into his pocket so he could have something of the sister he lost. It was worth loosing the photo knowing how happy it would make him.

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I don't own Sherlock Holmes, Jigen, Goemon, or Lupin's I, II, or III. I do own all three of the Lealah's however.

A/N: I've been doing a little bit of research on the first Lupin over the past few days, which is where this fic sprang from, I guess. If you're skeptical about Père's reaction to his sister's marriage to Holmes, I based that on a website's version of the book where Lupin met Holmes. In the book it is stated that the two could have been friends under different circumstances. Oh, and if you're wondering, Lupin and Holmes' confrontation ended up a draw. Lupin the Second was inevitably based on J. Lucy-Daisuke's version of the same character and a story that she shared with me that was written by a different author. A gigantic thanks goes out to her for encouraging this and other fics.

French Translations

_Non-_ no

_Merci-_ thanks

_Le Fantôm de l'Opéra-_ The Phantom of the Opera

_Mon cher- _my dear

_Oui-_ yes

_Mon petit loup-_ my little wolf

_Si vous plait- _please

_Père- _grandfather

_Grand-Père-_ (slang) grandfather

_Coulante- _fluently

_Exquis- _excellent

_Ce qui est fait est fait- _What is done is done.

_mon petit loup est dans l'amour- _my little wolf is in love

_ma chère soeur- _my dear sister

_Fou comme toi et fou comme moi-_ crazy as you and crazy as me. This is a line in the song _l'Amour Est Bleu _(Love is Blue). Thank you, Lucy, for helping me translate the song!


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